


Orchids for those we lost

by icejuliet314



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Female De Sardet (GreedFall), God Ending, Greedfall Bad End, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icejuliet314/pseuds/icejuliet314
Summary: Aveera De Sardet was weak. Blood is thicker than water, after all.15 years later, becoming the new goddess of life to Constantin's Death, she meets what she gave up.
Relationships: De Sardet/Siora (GreedFall), De Sardet/Siora/Kurt (Greedfall, Kurt/De Sardet (GreedFall)
Kudos: 18





	Orchids for those we lost

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to this while you read (Lowkey necessary):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvCpCg0sGkg  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CtB6ItL5Dw

Aislinn felt like she was in a dream. Who could blame her?  
Within the now slumbering volcano hid a clearing of white lilies, clean and bright. They swayed softly in the breeze, their scent dancing around the cavern. And in the center stood a great weeping willow, its branches swaying in the lilies and its many leaves murmuring in the wind, as if in prayer.

And there she stood, stark under the willow’s green leaves, her body whiter than the lilies. The white linen of her gown was moving in sync with the willow and lilies, flowing like water. The goddess’ hair fell down her back in a blanket of snow, a stark wreath of green aspen resting upon the crown of her head. _Cowardice_ , Aislinn thought, remembering what her mother taught her. Why oh why did the goddess wear a wreath of aspen? She was the Life Giver, was she not? For what does she wear cowardice?

Andevaurshd Yígaíg turns her head to look back at the mortal, a sad look upon her face. _The Mourning Wraith_ , she remembered. As the goddess fully turned around, Aislinn can see why she received such a title – her eyes, nose and cheeks, seemingly wet with tears, were flushed and her lips were bitten to redness. _The face of a mourner_.

And yet why does Life have to mourn? Should it not be her pair, Death, that should fill the role? But there is a logic, deep down, that the ravenette herself has seen. _It’s never the dead that mourn,_ she thinks, _It’s always the living_.

Slowly Andevaurshd Yígaíg steps toward the young girl, her movements slow and smooth like honey. Her hair flows around her as if in water, ethereal in the sunlight flittering through the opening in the ceiling and the ends almost seeming to fade into the air. Her pure white dress remains unstained by the earth, even as the hem brushes along it. Her feet, as pale as the rest of her body, peek from underneath the fabric until she steps into the lilies, reaching to her knees. The flowers seem to not mind the goddess’ presence and the goddess seems to almost become part of them. The closer Andevaurshd Yígaíg gets to Aislinn, the clearer the mortal can see branches of birch accentuating the goddess’ face, starting from her jaw and across her face and almost seeming to blend in with her skin.

“For what do you come?” Andevaurshd Yígaíg asks, her voice warm and smooth. It almost reminded the mortal girl of her own mother, though the lack of a native accent surprised her. Should she not reflect her people?

“You are Andevaurshd Yígaíg” Aislinn asks, trying to remain unfazed by the goddess’ beauty or etherealness. In answer, she simply smiles and nods slowly.

“That I am. Yet you already knew that, did you not?” Life asks, almost seeming to tease. And yet her teasing holds not a bite, but warmth, like a mother speaking to her daughter. Aislinn’s mark burns at the connection.

“Yes. And I came to see why my mother dislikes you so.” She blurts out without thinking and shame burns her face. _Fool, why did you think saying that will help anything_? The girl thought, lessons on her foolhardy nature coming to the forefront of her mind. Yet at her words the goddess just frowns softly, her shoulders slumping.

“Tell me. Did your mother ever mention someone by the name De Sardet?” Andevaurshd Yígaíg asks and Aislinn perks up. The name was never spoken directly, but the girl remembers hearing the name often in her childhood. It was always when her mother was sad or received a letter from her aunt and uncles, as well as the rare ones from her father.

“Yes… My mother always weeps when I hear it.” The teen says and the goddess only seems to slump more, turning back and walking towards the willow.

“Did she ever explain why she never spoke that name?” Life asks once again, Aislinn close behind her.

“No. She never did…” The girl answers, confused as to why the goddess would care. She saw the lilies brush along her legs, never getting crushed under her steps. Once they reach the willow, Life sets a gentle hand on the bark.

“Entertain me, before I answer.” The Mourning Wraith requests, her voice saddened. “Your mother receives letters, does she not? Tell me, do they mention a scientist from Hikmet, cunning and fair?”

“They do.” Aislinn replies, blunt as her first words spoken to the goddess.

“And do you know where she is?”

“I don’t.” Her fists clench and unclench, her body tense in all aspects. “Her letters stopped coming. Her last one… Mentions a cure to the malichor.”

Andevaurshd Yígaíg’s hand twitches on the bark, as if the words hurt her physically. “Do the letters mention a priest from Theleme, kind and open?”

“He passed a few seasons ago.” Aislinn replies and she sees the goddess’ shoulders shudder with unshed tears, her body tense as a bowstring.

“And what of a young Naut captain, witty and bright?” Life’s voice faltered, the cavern suddenly deathly still. _Is this still life_ , the ravenette wondered, worry settling in her core. With a shaky breath, she replied:

“Mother never received a letter from him. She said she knew him, but… He left and never came back.”

Aislinn’s answer ripped a choked sigh from Andevaurshd Yígaíg, the wind picking up softly as the fair goddess’ hand moves to the center of the willow’s trunk. That’s when the girl sees it: two white orchid blossoms, their petals gently shifting in the breeze as the murmuring of the willow’s leaves resumes. After another soft breath from Life, three new buds start to bloom, opening once the goddess’ spell finishes. Aislinn sees tears fall from her ice blue eyes, the Wraith’s sorrow palpable.

“I was De Sardet, once.” Andevaurshd Yígaíg says, making the mortal’s silver eyes widen. “I loved your mother and father both, but I was too weak and cowardly to kill my cousin when it mattered. Instead, I try to heal whatever hurt he brings as Death. But to do so, I let many people suffer under my decision.”

The revelation causes the girl’s breath to catch, her tongue suddenly too thick and dry to move. Her heart felt like it was in her mouth, her muscles ready to run if necessary. The wind picked up around them, almost in a warning, and The Mourning Wraith turned to Aislinn, brushing a strand of her ink black hair out of the girl’s face and tucking it behind her ear.

“It’s time for you to go, my dear.” The goddess bids, leaning over to give the teen a kiss on her forehead, “Stay safe. May no beasts trouble you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Aislinn turns and runs out of the clearing, fear pushing her feet ahead of her. Just in time, as a shadow moved from behind the weeping willow, concern on its marred face.

“She hurt you, dear cousin.” He says, saddened and angered at once. De Sardet sighs, watching the child’s retreating form.

“She only came to bring news, Constantin. And to get answers” the woman replies, her tone warm. The younger god turns to his dear cousin, sadness in his eyes before letting the white lady embrace him.

The scent of grief is both a blessing and a curse, at that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Andevaurshd Yígaíg - Earth Healer, the name the Natives have given Aveera after her ascension into godhood  
> Aislinn (Celtic name for Dream) - Kurt and Siora’s daughter  
> Symbolism:  
> Lilies: purity, innocence, commonly used in funeral homes or in churches  
> Weeping willow: the melancholy of grief  
> Birch: "the symbol of new beginnings, regeneration, hope, new dawns and the promise of what is to come. The tree carries ancient wisdom and yet appears forever young"  
> Orchids: "I will always love you"


End file.
